


The General and the Dancer

by The_Jashinist



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Alternate Canon, Gen, Vastayan Darkwill, i'm not even hiding the twist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-20 18:24:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14266938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Jashinist/pseuds/The_Jashinist
Summary: Two meetings, years apart, meant far more to Irelia than she even realized.





	The General and the Dancer

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what I'm doing, I'm just putting that out there now.

Irelia looked out on the graves before her, sitting silently, it felt good to think here, ruminate on everything.  It was quiet here, always quiet, the closest thing to peace Ionia would have from now on.  She wondered, internally, if this was okay, but a nagging bit of her wondered if it wasn't.

There was a shift in the dirt, and a young man sat beside her, crossing his legs and resting his wrists on his knees.  He was soft-featured, pale, and gentle in demeanor.  His hair was only tied back slightly, held in place by silver pins with the lower strands hanging about his shoulders like threads of ink-black silk.  His silver eyes regarded the graves with a sadness, a profound grieving for those who lay beneath the soil.

"Who were they?" he asked softly, a kindness to his voice that made Irelia feel at ease.

"My family," Irelia replied, "My O-ma, my mother, my father, Zelos, Ohn, Kai, and Ruu.  The admiral killed them."

The man nodded, "And you?  What did they call you?"

"Irelia."

The man nodded, "We lose people when peace shatters, Irelia, even those close to us."

"Have you lost anyone?" Irelia asked.

"Some friends, some loved ones," the man nodded, "there is very little that I could do."

Irelia looked at the graves, "Did you get to bury them?"

"Some of them, but most were burned," the man replied, "there is no grave I can mourn at, and I can't bear to visit the one that exists."

"My family's graves give me peace," Irelia pointed out, "whose grave is it?"

"My best friend's," the man answered, "but each time I visit, I hear his screaming.  I can't find peace when the grave won't be silent."

Irelia felt her heart ache a little.  How brutal was this death that it left such a scar on someone so young?  Irelia almost felt old thinking that, but she could almost feel the impetuousness of youth boiling in this man.  He could not have been much older than her.

"There he is."

Irelia stood quickly and turned to the Noxians as they stepped into the garden, looking expectant.  Irelia quickly stepped in front of the man, thinking the men were here to take this newfound friend, or worse, kill him.  This garden didn't need another grave.

"No, no," the man said, putting a placating hand on Irelia's shoulder, "it's fine.  Who's looking for me now?"

"Admiral Duqal wanted to speak with you," the front soldier reported stiffly.

"Did he now?" the man raise his eyebrows, a firm authority creeping into his gentle voice, "Tell me, on whose authority did you take these lives?"

"Y-yours sir," the soldier replied, "you said to get rid of any opposition."

"Yes," the man nodded, "I didn't say kill any opposition, did I?"

The men looked awkwardly at the ground, cowering before this gentle-looking man.  Irelia felt a sense of unease wash over her as his utilitarian clothes, stiff and black, began to slide in place when pitted against the Noxian armor, utilitarian, stiff, and black.

"We assumed-since they fought back-" the soldier protested.

"That you'd kill innocent people who were uninvolved?" the man finished the soldier's sentence, "A little girl's grandmother dead in the ground?  You call that getting rid of opposition?  These are people, not viruses."

Irelia stepped back.

The man folded his hands behind his back and sighed, "Where's Duqal?"

The soldier looked at his comrades uneasily, and the smallest of the bunch ran off as quickly as he could, the rest stared at the man in terror.

Duqal arrived in typical bravado.  He was a cruel, swaggering man with skin like curdled milk.  He looked down on everyone, even this man that his soldiers seemed to regard with abject terror.

"I see you've found the Xan girl," Duqal gave a cruel grin, "we were planning to have her join her family."

The man straightened up, "For what?"

"Resisting," Duqal answered, "come now General, you aren't really going to defend a little upstart, are you?"

"An upstart?" the man let out a laugh, one that chilled Irelia and she stiffened, unable to move, "Remind me Duqal, how Noxian am I?"

"Half," Duqal recalled, "The other half is Ionian if I'm not mistaken."

"And remind me," the man walked forwards, "who gave you the order to get rid of opposition?"

"You did," Duqal puffed out his chest proudly, "which I've done."

The man stopped in front of Duqal, who stood a head taller and was not even remotely afraid of this lean man he called General, "Do old women count as opposition?"

"If their family opposes Noxus," Duqal replied.

The man caught Duqal by the throat, and blue flames wreathed his hands, filling the air with a metallic tang, like the air on a cold day.

"Do you think I'm an idiot?" he snarled, then threw Duqal back.  The admiral's neck had gone black as pitch and glistened with frost.

"You can't invade Ionia and expect them to buckle because you have their blood," Duqal croaked.

"I don't intend to," the man let the blue flames coat his arm, "but I will not allow imbeciles like you to destroy these people because they will not bow.  Do I make myself clear?"

Duqal let out a hissing growl and nodded.

"Good," the man nodded, letting the flames dissipate, "glad we have that settled."

Irelia felt the fear gripping her fade slightly, and at this moment, she ran.  She couldn't explain it, but as she ran, words echoed in her head from before, and slowly, she came to a halt, looking back at the path she'd taken.  She thought back to the man the Noxians called General, how a soft-spoken young man had turned so ruthless so quickly, and then her mind wandered back to what he'd said, about his friend's grave, about the screaming that hovered there for him.  The young man was a General, but at what cost?  What blood stained his hands?

Irelia ruminated on this man, she kept thinking, even as Noxus left Ionia's shores, she thought of the young man whose softness could snap to cruelty in the blink of an eye.

It was nine years before she went back to those graves.  Maybe she was hoping, in the time passed, thinking about that man was so far at the back of her mind, she wouldn't remember him enough to have this land tainted by naïve trust in someone she didn't even know.  Her family was buried there, after all.

Irelia stepped into the garden, the graves were hidden by overgrown foliage, but she still remembered their place, vaguely.  At the foot of one, a marker had been gently placed, the word "O-ma" had been carved in meticulously, and beneath it, the outline of a lotus blossom.  Irelia traced her fingertips over the lotus outline, letting herself smile slightly at the kind gesture.

There was a footstep behind her, and Irelia quickly turned, baring her blades readily.  The intruder leapt back, holding up his hands.  Irelia held the blades firm, recognizing the young man from all those years ago, barely changed in the nine years since they'd met.  Despite a seeming surrender, white flames danced along his fingertips, and two brands, bearing the same lotus as O-ma's grave, glowed on his palms.

"What do you want?" Irelia tried to hide the tremor in her voice.  There was a sweetness to the air as if drifting from the flames the man had summoned.

"If you're here, to talk," the man offered, "and apologize, if you'll let me."

Irelia retracted her blades, and the flames dissipated, "There's no apology that can change what happened," Irelia began to turn away, then turned back, a thought on her mind, "you're Ionian, aren't you?  Or is your loyalty to Noxus that powerful?"

"No," the man shook his head, lowering his hands, "and I know an apology won't reverse the deaths or the damage.  This was my fault, all of it, and no apology will make it right.  You don't even need to forgive me, but I do want to talk."

"About what?" Irelia asked, relaxing a little.

"You're the one with things on your mind," the man shrugged, "you wouldn't be here if you didn't."

"Why do you say that?"

"There are those who come to graves to mourn, and those who come to graves to think," the man replied, "when we met, you said these graves gave you peace.  Those aren't the words of one who mourns at graves."

"Perhaps I did come to think," Irelia agreed, "did you mark my O-ma's grave?"

The man nodded, "In Noxus, we only mark those who earn their rest with memorials.  We burn our dead and stand vigil at their pyres.  We consider it respectful, but I know that is not what Ionia does."

"Thank you," Irelia allowed herself to smile, turning to the grave.  She didn't move much when the man took a spot beside her.  "You mentioned a friend, whose grave you could never visit.  Was it a memorial?"

"He died in battle," the man confirmed, "every soldier on the field told the story like he died with glory, except for those near at hand.  He died fighting because he didn't want to die.  If glory is dying afraid, dying screaming in terror and agony, I don't think I want any part of it."

"You can't visit his memorial without remembering his death in detail?" Irelia furrowed her brow.

"I visit the Shrine of Wolf instead," the man shrugged, "I prefer remembering the glory he believed in, not the reality that it became."

A silence passed before the man spoke again.

"But the screaming is not figurative, by the way."

Irelia stood quietly for a moment, processing what the man had just said.

"How do you hear a corpse screaming?" she asked.

"I think you know how," the man replied.

Irelia looked at her feet, considering the very thought to herself, a corpse screaming.  All that came to mind was necromancy, but this man seemed so collected that she couldn't believe he'd resort to something so dark.

Then it hit her, collected as he may be, he was not the man whose friend had died, he had grown beyond that impulsive grief, whatever he'd done, it was something one looked at with regret, with guilt.  Necromancy certainly fulfilled that requirement, didn't it?

"Why?" the word almost caught in Irelia's throat.

"I was scared, alone.  He'd always stood beside me and I couldn't imagine life without him by my side.  I was young and shortsighted.  I can still claim the latter."

"You don't look that old to me," Irelia noted.

"My father was over a century old when he died, he barely looked fifty."

"He was Vastaya?" Irelia guessed.

"Lhotlan, yes."

"So you're not really human."

"I'm not really Vastaya either."

Irelia let out a soft laugh, "And what do you turn into?"

"A raven," the man scoffed, "bothers the hell out of Swain, if you'll believe it."

Irelia tensed at the name, but a momentary thought of Swain being the long-suffering victim of a raven's mischief did entertain her, a little.

"Sorry, that I recall you didn't part with Swain on good terms."

"Did you?"

"I think at this point he regards me with irritation and caution."

Another silence fell, and they stood quietly, looking at the graves, waiting for someone to speak.

"I think you know I'm not a good man, much less one that warrants your ear," the man spoke first, a tinge of sadness to his voice, "To Noxus, I am something strong, but to Ionia, I'm a liar and a cheat.  I got my power by lying, playing on the arrogance of nobles who thought of me as little more than their perfect puppet ruler."

"How did you lose it?" Irelia asked.

"I gave it up willingly and got rid of anyone who would fight against it."

"Why get rid of them?  Why not change them?"

"These were men who thought strength was found at the edge of a blade, not in the words that order those blades to move.  I tried to change one, and it didn't do me any good."

Irelia looked at the man and saw that his gaze had hardened.

"I killed a man so loyal to me that he told his adopted son to follow me if he died, never thinking that the man he was so loyal to would be his killer."

"Did you regret it?"

"I still regret it, but I didn't have another choice, and neither did you."

The man looked at Irelia, "I think you still question your decision at the Placidium, but I promise you one thing, you changed two nations that day, and some would argue, for the better."

The man turned to leave, and Irelia watched him go.  Acting on impulse, she grabbed the man's wrist.  The man stopped and turned back.

"You know what my family called me, I want to know what your friends call you."

The man considered this, then smiled.

"Boram."


End file.
